


Supremacy

by Vaerien



Category: Original Work
Genre: Action, Action/Adventure, Adventure, Gen, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Original Universe, Superheroes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-20
Updated: 2017-10-20
Packaged: 2019-01-18 11:17:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12386994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vaerien/pseuds/Vaerien
Summary: Pentford, a bustling metropolis filled with humans and superhumans alike, is typically regarded as America's biggest superhero hub. The city itself is safe, with humans happily coexisting with their supernatural protectors, and with generations upon generations of heroes to follow.However, a dark presence looms over the city; one that threatens to take everything its citizens hold dear and turn it into something else – a new ideology that will change the way the city and its members operate.This is Supremacy, a tale of superhuman beings, political corruption, and the burdens of morality.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Little original series I've been trying to write and attempting to finish. This is its third rewrite in about the same number of years, hope you enjoy!
> 
> Special shoutout to LivingToaster and the After-Hours Spot Discord server for helping with proofreading and idea development.
> 
> Also inspired by Worm, a webseries written by WildBow.
> 
> Supremacy has a sister series called Sepulcher! Check it out here: https://sepulcherwebserial.wordpress.com/

A hooded figure briskly walked down the deserted street, his footsteps echoing off of the row of buildings that stood before him. He breathed out, his breath dissolving into the frigid air, and attempted to pull his sleeves over his forearms, not wanting the machinery to freeze.

The figure looked around, his eyes met by no more than buildings partially illuminated by the moonlight. The streets were unusually empty, despite the downtown location. It was always like that during the night, but not the daytime, the figure noticed. When the sun rose, Pentford came alive with activity. The sound of endless chatter and honking horns filled the city with life, along with its citizens. However, the end of day meant the end of activity. Conversations slowly receded, with the eerie silence of the night taking its place.

The figure grit his teeth and started sprinting down the road, his footsteps clanking against the pavement as he ran. He wanted to get it over with. Not for the sake of getting another mundane task out of the way, but for the sake of the city’s well-being.

He wasn't like the rest of them, or so he was told. He’d made sure that he acted differently from the rest of them. The Master told him to do so, after all. The figure could not possibly ignore the Master. He was the one who gave the figure a purpose: to do something that would change the world. To do something that would make him more than a pathetic teen, a laughingstock, a punching bag. To do something that would change Pentford forever.

After what seemed like an eternity, the seemingly never-ending rows of buildings gave way to an empty courtyard **.** In the back, a large glass dome stood, its shadow being casted onto the courtyard in front of it. In front of the dome was a statue of some superhero, adorned with flowers left by the locals. The figure didn't care for who it was, or what they looked like, fully knowing that the pictured hero was filled with nothing but corruption and an ability to manipulate the masses.

His hands curled into fists, his facial expression contorting into a grimace. That building, along with its ornaments, was profane. Detrimental to society. An ode to the corrupted parties that laid a sick kind of ideology upon the city people, who blindly accepted it. His stomach lurched every time he thought about it.

His unusual views, however, brought unusual treatment. People would mock him whenever he commented on how society was run. Sometimes it would bring beatings or death threats. It often angered him, almost driving him to take revenge upon his tormentors, but he knew better. The Master had told him that fighting back was useless. They’d all realize the truth eventually – no force needed.

The figure smiled to himself, knowing that reformation was near.

He took a deep breath and slowly made his way towards the building interior, examining the architecture as he went. The building was awfully weak, for something that housed tributes to historical figures and events. His current equipment was more than enough, he remarked. The Master had ensured that he was well prepared, and for that, he was grateful. He would have no issue completing this task.

He strode up to the front doors and effortlessly pushed them open, the glass door giving way to a dimly lit museum of “heroes”, now stretching out in front of him. Taking a deep breath, he peered inside, scanning the interior for any lingering people. 

No one was to be seen. Any evidence of a tourist presence was gone, presumably swept away by the museum’s cleaning team. Instead of being filled with people, the museum was filled with photographs and diagrams alike, with most sporting display cases that were devoid of fingerprints or smudges.

He turned his gaze towards a small aisle, with framed photographs covering both walls. Each picture depicted different kinds of superheroes posing with various citizens. No matter what photo the figure looked at, everyone was smiling. The situation of each photo didn't matter. Whether the heroes were hosing off graffiti or taking a stroll downtown, everyone sported a toothy grin spanning from ear to ear.

The gallery had a certain air of sadness to it, or so he thought. Every smile seemed so fake. He shook his head. The poor citizens had been brainwashed - led to believe that a set of spandex-wearing superhumans was capable of keeping the city safe.

The figure held out his arm as he strode past the row of photos, knocking them down as he went. Upon hearing the clatter of frames hitting the floor, he smiled. The noise was music to his ears. To him, the falling photos represented the destruction of society as he knew it. The idea of shattering Pentford’s false utopia caused his heart to beat a little faster, and caused his smile to widen a little bit more. To him, the idea was pure bliss.

Once he reached the end of the aisle, he turned around and looked at the pile of photographs, admiring his work. The scattered pile sent a message to the world: that these so-called “heroes” were not strong. Hell, they weren't even strong enough to stop an intruder from sneaking into their beloved museum.

But the message was not strong enough. He had to do more.

The figure took off his sweater, revealing a body made entirely out of steel. It was handcrafted by the Master himself and designed for easy transport, something that had been extremely beneficial to the figure. It had replaced most of his former body - over time, metal tendrils had coiled around him, covering his skin and then soon destroying the living tissue. After a few months, he had become almost entirely robotic. All bodily functions were performed by AI. The only things that belonged to him were his thoughts, his senses, and his actions.

However, the body had come with a price. In place of bones and muscle was something that was essential to his success. With it, he’d have to pay a price - a price that he was willing to pay. It was a necessary sacrifice, one that was needed to achieve greater good.

He flipped open a panel on his forearm and laid his gaze on a yellow button, which was connected to various wires that ran into his body. He hovered his fingers over the button and shuddered, shutting his eyes and saying a silent prayer to the Master, thanking him for all.the opportunities that he had given him over the years.

“For the Operation,” he said, his voice no more than a thin rattle. “Soon, we will all be united under a common banner.”

Without hesitation, he pressed the button. Pentford’s iconic museum - a symbol of unity for all citizens - ceased to exist, along with life as they knew it.


	2. Chapter 2

Blurs of dark purple and black swirled across his field of vision, forming a curtain that blocked him from the outside world. The curtain stretched off into the distance, for as long as he could see; everywhere he turned, or thought he turned, there was more of the curtain blocking his path.

Despite being trapped within his own pre-conceived walls of nothingness, he remained calm. Joey’s dreams always started off like this. Every curtain would eventually be drawn, revealing various snippets of his life, available for him to relive for the duration of his dream.

Joey pushed the curtain aside, his hand disappearing in the coloured swirls. The ripples of purple and black slowly faded out of his field of view, instead replaced by the scenario he would be dreaming about for the remainder of the night.

A large glass dome materialized in his view, with statues and hedges proudly standing in front of the building. Joey recognized all the people depicted in the statues; all of them were heroes, who were dedicated to keeping Pentford safe for most of their life. Most of them had served as inspiration for young children growing up, Joey included, and still continued to serve as role-models for all those who wanted to become a hero.

Behind the Victory Centre was the night sky, serving as this dream’s backdrop. The sky was clear, with several stars dotting the horizon. Upon noticing the sky, Joey blinked. This wasn’t something that he had seen before. 

He’d visited the Victory Centre several times during his life, however he’d never been there at night. He couldn’t think of a reason why anyone would  _ want _ to visit the tourist attraction late at night – once the sun set, every tourist was sucked back into their residences for the night, along with the Centre staff. No one was left to frequent the Centre, or to accompany those who wanted to do so.

He spotted a dark, hooded figure jogging towards the Centre, anxiously looking around for any passerby. Watching the figure with an intent gaze, Joey slowly approached him, his eyes solely focused on the anomaly. Joey’s stomach tightened. Despite never talking to the figure, Joey sensed that he wasn’t up to any good, knowing that the few people who chose to visit the Victory Centre at night often ended up behind bars at the city jail.

The figure stepped inside the Victory Centre, leaving the front door ajar. He stared helplessly at the sight in front of him, anxiously waiting for what was going to happen. Half of him was hoping that the person was just checking out the public space, but his clothing and demeanor suggested otherwise. The timing of his visit alone was enough to arouse Joey’s suspicions; however the dark clothing, coupled with the figure’s tendency to rapidly scan the area for any people, further fed his doubts.

All was quiet and dark. With every passing second, the air became increasingly stale. Accompanied by the stale air was a sudden chill that passed through the courtyard, enveloping the surrounding area in sheets of cold. Joey shut his eyes and shivered, having noticed that the cold was cutting through his pyjamas in the same way a knife cuts through melted butter. 

After a few moments of silence and almost unbearable cold, Joey noticed a bright light coming from within the Centre. He slowly approached the front door and peered inside. In the middle of the building’s main area stood the figure – or at least, what was left of him. Photo frames and other mementos swirled around a patch of blinding light, which appeared to be crudely outlining a human with his arms outstretched.

Despite the intensity of the light, Joey found himself staring straight at its source. He slowly approached the figure, holding his hands out, in case any debris was to come flying towards him.

As if sensing his presence, the ball of light approached him. Joey found himself staring into a pair of jet black eyes, devoid of all expression and life. Joey’s eyes widened. He wasn’t looking at a human being, but rather a creation of a human – whether it be a robot or something else.

“You’re not from Pentford.” Joey simply said, his arms falling limp at his sides. Instead of choosing to reply, the figure approached Joey and chuckled, the light surrounding him getting even brighter, its radius expanding. After a few moments, the light enveloped the entire interior of the Victory Centre. Joey found that wherever he turned, there was nothing to see except for the white light and the jet black eyes of the creature.

The last thing Joey heard before being thrown out of the Centre was the sound of a deafening explosion, shortly followed by the sound of shattering glass.

***

“Joey,” a female voice whispered into his ear. “Wake up, Joey. Dad’s leaving.” The owner of the voice softly nudged Joey, accompanied by more pleas to get out of bed.

“He does that all the time, though,” Joey groaned. He pulled the covers over his head and turned away from the voice, hoping to drown it out. He had no time for idle chitchat concerning his father, instead wanting to re-enter his dream state and witness the aftermath of the Victory Centre situation. Squeezing his eyes shut, he willed himself to sleep, desperately hoping that he would be left alone.

His sister was having none of it. Joey felt a firm clap on his back, and his eyes immediately snapped open. Annoyed, he threw his covers off and quickly sat up in bed, and found himself staring into the eyes of his twin sister. Despite the lack of light in the room, he noticed a sense of urgency hidden within his sister’s eyes; something he’d seldom seen. Her brown hair was hastily put up in a bun, much to Joey’s surprise; he knew that Victoria’s appearance was one of her top priorities, and couldn’t think of a moment when she looked less than decent.

Despite her frazzled appearance, she still managed a smile. “There’s the Joey we all know and love,” she teased, poking him in the stomach. Joey shrunk back and held up a pillow in defense, glaring at her in response.

“Very funny, Victoria,” Joey grumbled, carefully setting the pillow down. He slowly got up and started pacing around the bedroom, gingerly stepping over strewn clothes and books left lying haphazardly on the floor. The room was cramped and cluttered, having barely enough room to accommodate the two siblings, their beds, and their belongings.

“Anyways, why’re you so concerned about Dad leaving?” He asked, turning to his sister. He scratched the back of his neck and tilted his head, raising his eyebrows in questioning. “He leaves often. It ain’t as shocking as it used to be.” 

Victoria shook her head and quietly padded over to the door, pressing her ear against the wood.  _ Come here,  _ she mouthed, gesturing for Joey to join her. Reluctantly, he obeyed, and found himself pressed up against the door, trying to listen in to whatever Victoria was so worried about.

“Listen,” she whispered. “Don’t say anything and listen.”

Joey nodded and closed his eyes, trying his best to listen to the commotion that was taking place outside the twins’ bedroom. He could recognize the gruff baritone voice of his father, accompanied by his mother’s voice, calm and smooth as silk. However, he found that the two voices were angry, yet oddly hushed, which could only signal two things: the house was on the verge of being reclaimed by the city once again, or that his father’s job was getting increasingly demanding, much to his mother’s dismay.

Joey hoped that it was the latter.

“Peter, it’s 2 in the goddamn morning,” his mother pleaded, sounding more exhausted than usual. “Do you really have to go to work at this time? Can’t it wait?”

An exasperated sigh from his father signalled otherwise.

“Somethin’s happened downtown,” his father replied, snorting. “Stuff like this don’t happen everyday. I could send Joey or Vic to work in my place, if ya want. We’ll head into that room of theirs and wake ‘em up, and send ‘em off to the Protectorate in a heartbeat.”

The pair’s eyes widened at the statement, and the two quickly made eye contact with each other. They both knew that the Pentford Protectorate was no laughing matter, serving as the city’s hub for all employed superhumans and heroes in training. All government-approved heroes were housed in the Protectorate, no matter if they were working for the city’s police force or training to join it.

With the recent discovery of their father’s place of employment, both twins were struck with a strange sense of pride. Their father’s job was shrouded in secrecy for as long as the two could remember, with their father avoiding every job-related question that the two would throw at him. The revelation answered some of their questions but raised a slew of new ones; questions that would linger in the air and go unanswered for quite some time.

Any revelation was sufficient for Joey and Victoria. The two gave small sighs of relief, now certain that their father wasn’t doing shady things for money.

“I won’t let them do your work for you,” their mother protested. The sound of her voice brought the twins back to reality. The two pressed their ears against the door and returned to listening into their parents’ conversation. “Do you think I’d let them out at 2 in the morning, doing some stupid job for unreasonable pay-”

Their mother’s statement was interrupted by the sound of plates and cutlery clattering to the floor, followed by the sound of something heavy being slammed against the wall. The two looked at each other with wide eyes, fully aware of the cause behind the noise. Their father’s anger was truly something to behold.

Without thinking, Joey shot up and lunged for the doorknob, only to be held back by Victoria. The two looked at each other, with Joey’s furious stare boring into Victoria’s calm and collected gaze. It was as if ice and fire had met, however, contrary to common logic, it seemed like ice was the one to calm fire.

“Step outside and you’ll get us all hurt,” Victoria hissed, pulling Joey back down to the floor. Joey opened his mouth to protest, but was quickly silenced by the sound of something heavy repeatedly being slammed against the wall. The walls rattled with the impact. Both twins quietly backed away from the door and back to their respective beds, hoping that the wrath of their father wouldn’t extend to other members of the family.

“This ain’t some stupid job,” their father growled. Another  _ thud. _ “It never was, and it will never be.” He paused, and for a moment, all Joey and Victoria could hear was the sound their own heavy, laboured breaths.

“I never meant-”

“This is important,” their father replied, his voice packing a dangerous edge. “The work memo mentioned somethin’ going down at the Victory Centre, and I don’t think it’s just a group o’ hooligans fooling around at midnight.”

Joey’s eyes widened. He recalled the scene from his dream earlier; the hooded figure, his quiet entry into the Centre, and the blinding flash that took place just moments after he entered. At first, he thought that the dream was merely a made-up scenario, given that he’d never witnessed it in his life before. Now, he knew that the dream took place, and he feared the events to follow.

“Peter, you won’t be long, right?” Though shaky, her voice remained strong, failing to indicate any effect of her husband’s outburst.

Their father sighed and tapped his foot impatiently. “Dunno ‘bout that. Depends on how serious this thing is. We’ll see.” He paused once again and sighed.

“I gotta go, Karen.” he finished. The sound of heavy footsteps panned throughout the house, which only meant one thing: he was preparing to leave. The twins heard the jingling of keys, accompanied by the sound of the door unlocking and opening. Wind howled outside and found its way into the house, sending various things falling from the wall and crashing onto the floor.

“One more thing before I leave,” he called, his voice barely being heard above the gusts. “Keep the kids outta trouble. I don’t want them out there unless they need t’be.”

The door slammed shut. The howling wind immediately stopped, and the twins were left in darkness and silence. Any evidence of an argument had disappeared with their father, leaving a tense silence in its wake. Joey stood up and stared at his sister, his eyes filled with some sort of resolve that was never seen before.

“We need to get out there and see what’s going on.”


End file.
